The Shine of Blade and Stone

[danielmn]

The rain hit the heather thatch of the guardhouse above, small drops running between and making small puddles on the stone underneath. One such drop fell the distance, landing on the large nose of the dwarf that stood guard under. The year waned, the snows would come soon. The High Passes were already covered, and the road to Felbarr became more laborous every trip that Garlus made. He had shouldered his axe, Duma, and lowered the sheild to the ground as his eyes scanned the ridge above the farm in the scant light of the cloudy afternoon. The Sword Lemual walked by, asking if all was well. He made no reply. He grinned slightly as the man left...Helmites. Good for shoring up defences perhaps, but a bit too "vigilant" in sticking their noses in other's businesses.

He shook his head slightly...the earlier conversation had seen the "Sword" berate a group for being here merely for the lure of gold...saying they didn't mind how they made the gold....while a few breaths later admitting freely that the axe he was trying to pawn off had been taken from the dead. Garlus didn't see much of a difference between the two. Not to mention Ryu acting the serving dog, licking the boots of both Lemual and Rathalan...delivering messages against those who help..."investigating" sellswords and their motives. Oh, to be sure Lemual's prowess in battle was to be applauded...especially since he did not train under any swordsman. His self-transformation with no aid from those higher was almost miraculous in fact. Garlus admired that. His mind..however....
Lemual had a high opinion of himself...weather he realized it or not. He was quick to offer a word about what he had that others lacked... If it wasn't a comment revolving in someway around his magic sword, it was conversation bent on the dwarves unresponsiveness to the request for aid or further insulting someone Rathalan had deemed acceptable to insult...too quick to make evident other's shortcommings...Rathalan moreso. It did get annoying...and predictable.

Garlus narrowed his eyes a moment at the movement...a bird. Nothing more. Garlus had nothing against the Helmites in and of themselves...too much authority though...too much head swelling. The way Lemual took charge after the capture of the Orog was...irritating, to say the least. But what could he have done, the Helmites wore the badges, and decided what was good for everyone. The Helmites would use the duty excuse to butt into anything and take control if they could...and they could, since they had authority. And they knew it. And so did everyone else. But Garlus wouldn't bend for them..he was not a damned Helmite. He had heard about Rathalan's rousing sermon on the bridge...and the undertones and insinuations. Rathalan had said if Master Cayn made no objection, that he would leave it alone...but perhaps he had just meant leave the situation between the two alone. It was obvious he was going to persecute Xujja, the horned one, until the lad actually did do something wrong, no matter how miniscule. And then would probably hang the poor kid. No matter his own followers, including him, striping the dead of honor and dignity and leave them to be buried in plainclothes somewhere. That is acceptable.

The bird took flight. Garlus watched as it took shelter in a nearby tree. He felt slight pity for the horned one, but only slight. Moreso, he respected the lads resiliant spirit. It was not easy to be an outsider, and the fanged, darkskinned, horned being bore it well. Most either shied away, or stuck their noses in the air when he was about. The great evil. Garlus didn't see what was so evil about him, besides his looking different. But...like Duma...he couldn't control his birth. The lad had found many a stone for him, and didn't seem to be malicious at all...except for maybe to the fish that he ate....uncooked.

Voices came to him through one of the cutout windows of the guardhut. He peeked out of the doorway at the two....the first one looked over...a young Lieutenant of the Legion by the look of the uniform...the other, a much more interesting unarmored and barefooted man. In a witty voice, the interesting one commented...

Rain is Ilmater's attempt at daily pennance.

Garlus called out his greeting to the two below on the road, traveling in the direction of Rivermoot.

Whot say yeh lads?

They both looked up the hill at him...
**************************************

Garlus eyed the ridgeline. The lieutenant had only spoken to him to make sure Garlus knew nothing of what was in the missive. Typical snotnosed Legion officer. Of coarse, he didn't...and wasn't supposed to. The less he interefered in Longleg Politics, the better off he would be. Beside, the lieutenant had been right...matters for "official forces of the Marches." Let the damned Legion and Helmites worry about it, they had the authority, they had the gold, the elaborate temples, the items for sale to their own. Garlus...and those like him, were merely tools...instruments to be used when needed. He began to wonder where the thin line between lawful and tyranical lay.

Head low. Eye sharp. Solid stone underfoot.

[danielmn]

The Felbarr winds were bitter...Garlus had changed his light cloak for the heavy fur cloak he carried in his pack before the city even fell from veiw. Now, the cloak had a life of it's own, whipping and billowing at the shifts of wind. The bottom foot of the furs were crusted with snow and ice. Garlus grinned as he trudged along...the Aurilite would like it up here. Rathalan had once asked if the dark skinned one would be welcomed more in Felbarr than elsewhere...Garlus had answered yes. Maybe he was wrong...he did not know...this was not his clan. But he felt Xujja would be more at home up here, around the small diamonds of the snow, than in the valleys below. A strong gust brought the diamonds to eyelevel as Garlus cursed and stumbled slightly, sheilding his eyes. His pack weighed heavy, twelve orckin dead at the mine ruins left him with a few blades...katana's, Ryu had called them at one point. Coin was needed....more and more people were finding good stones for him.

He trudged back up to the high pass, the snow almost waist high now. He proceeded slowly, his beard covered in small crystals of ice...not far to the plagued city, and after, Felbarr. Warm fires would welcome the Walker of Dumathoin. Those at Felbarr had given over the name to Garlus...he was not sure if it was because of his collection of stones and gems...or because of his dedication in seeing the the dwarven dead be buried within proper halls.

Sywyn was right...at least he had somewhere to go, to get away from the rest. The ungratefull. The headstrong. Settlestone was off limits for that..the Helmites had made it clear they had a vested interest in taking over there...for the good of the people, of coarse. Slaughtering the wildmen. He still had high hopes that between Thoron and himself, a peace could be established between the Wildmen of the Wolf and Raven tribes and Settlestone. Garlus smirked at the idea of peace being made between the Wildmen and the inhabitants of Settlestone while the Helmites chose to slaughter them. Men killing men. He tread past the gate to Felbarr, and to a little rest.

[danielmn]

The muck was ankle deep. It helped he was using soil off of the island, rather than what little there was on. Still, the going was slow. Garlus shoveled another shovelfull into the sack. The rain had not let up for what seemed like weeks. The water level was getting higher and higher up the bank. And the shoveling let his mind wander.

He would go to the city soon. Garlus had run into Devon...he had almost thought the man dead. But yet, he stood outside the gates of Rivermoot naught but a few days before. Garlus wondered where the man had been. Much had changed since their last meet. The small red glass eye from Devon's heirloom lay somewhere in his lockbox, along with the ruby Garlus intended to replace them with. Of coarse, the price agreed on was a pittance, but Garlus did not mind. It would give him more experience and perhaps make his name known as well, among collectors at least. Rubies were something to be prized after all, and Garlus had many other stones for working. Two amethysts beckoned from within to be made into earrings. Garlus grinned while he shoveled. A step in the right direction...he wondered what a complete set of his own tools would cost. He had a few he'd collected over the years, but by no means did he have everything he needed. The hin would let him work in her shop...for a price, of coarse.

The questioning of the Orog had gone much as he had expected, of coarse. Garlus was able to get more sense out of the Orog before the others showed up than after. Of coarse they would have to appear out of thin air, right after they had said they were leaving...only to leave again after. Garlus guessed they came back to deal with the Orog then. The guards said they had been looking for him. And of coarse the idiots all stood there yelping question upon question over each other like a pack of dogs...no damn order whatsoever. At least the other dwarf had sense enough to remain silent and on watch, and the Trusty enough sense to remain quiet for most of the time. He felt sorry for the "loud one" as the orog put it...so easily confused...he must have asked five questions at least three different ways each...as if that would change the answers. And of coarse demanded to know what Garlus asked of his own...nevermind the trouble with translation comment when he tried to question the Orog further to make sense of his answers. He should have kept the answers to himself and sent the pack on a wild chase for all of the gratitude they showed...it was as if they had captured the Orog themselves and the questioning was their idea all along. In a way, Garlus wouldn't be surprised if they DID actually think that...they did have high opinions. Last time he would endure being bossed around like some damn servant...first that Lieutenant, then them. Next time, he'd keep it to himself. No one asked them to interfere in the first place.

Garlus continued to shovel the soil into the sacks. For all of their blundering, he did hope the Helmites would be restored to rank. Blind though they be to the citizens plight. Someone needed to explain the color gray to them, one of these days.

Shovel. Fill. Prepare.

[danielmn]

The hammer felt right in his hands. Garlus was eager to work, he had ignored his other talents for too long. The short mallet came down again, direct on the punch, driving the broken rivet from its purchase within the cool metal. Repairs. Rundarr had a backlog of them. Garlus grinned, continuing to work on the suit of plate that belonged to one of the Knights of the city...four more lay next to the table, needing repairs... nevermind the multiple sets upon sets of the Legions, that would find their way back into circulation as more battered armour came in. In thought, Ironshields repair services for the city and Legion might bring in more coin than his sales of new sets...the canny dwarf had done well in making a name for himself and cornering a piece of the market. There were other smithies of coarse, but none so well known. Garlus felt fortunate to be able to help his kin...and to learn from him.

Garlus watched in the mornings as Rundarr began anew his armour making from raw ingots. The true craft. Garlus had never forged, he had always done repair work for his clan...too young to be a forgemaster. But he was coming into his own now...and Rundarr was a good teacher.
The constant ringing of the forgehammers reminded him of home, and the monotonous work gave his mind time to fly to other things worth thinking on.

It wandered to the Tempustman, bedecked in gaudy red and yellow armour. Said he had heard of Garlus...before even meeting. Garlus grinned at the thought..honor was being wrought by him for the Clan. There was no telling how many would know the name Ironbeard. He almost laughed remembering the man's fumbling attempt to have his god hold Garlus in place right before the dual. A cowards trick, a trick to be used in battle against orcs, not in the proving fights. Still, the man had a warriors heart...his muscle lacked spirit though.

He set the armour aside, picking up another set of plate as he thought of the sun. His grin widened as his mind saw the future. A young babe, perhaps different than most...but with unimaginable possibilities. There was no doubt the child would see a slightly troubled life...but to prove the words right was a weakness of the father, not the child. He sighed slowly, sometimes chances are given to those that don't even deserve them, let alone want them. A pack of pride, naught more. The slightest breeze could tumble the pups off of their feet. Leave them to their own vices...sooner or later the errant path leads to falling.

He hung the hammer on its rack, nodded to Rundarr, and started to the path toward Isolia's. He still had quite a few stones to work on...and he felt better if he were around the Matins. Besides, he had a mountain cat pelt to cure for a future crib.

[danielmn]

The chisel came down on the turquoise lightly as the crude edge on it's surface was cut away. Smooth. No facets for turquoise... no point in it. The back and front were becoming smooth and flat, a good polish and the stone would be ready to set. Good for a neckpeice for one of the local farmers wives...perhaps a harvest gift, or a nameday present for a special daughter. Garlus grinned slightly at the thought. Oh, the peice wouldn't be worth much in and of itself...but worth didn't matter. It was the giving. Years and years from now, perhaps a girl no longer would look to the stone and necklace her father had given her, right before she put it around the neck of her own daughter. That was the power of a stone. In that respect, each stone in front of him would become a memory that could not be measured in coin. Too many judged the value of something by it's weight in gold. He looked over at the stark black pearl that lay on the table amid the other stones. Gold was everpresent in the ground..new veins found by his kin and kith frequently. But a lone black pearl...it was not everday one saw such. His grin widened as his eyes found the cut twin red rubies...ready for when he next saw The Man. One black. Two red. Three rare. He looked to the pearl. What is rare isn't always valuable. He looked to the twin Rubies. What is valuable is not always rare. He grinned slightly, wondering what name she would think of.

He eyed the stones, and thought again of the dark skinned blue clad cold one. He wondered what Xuuja had been up to...if those stones were just stones, or somehow magicked to harm the both of them. It was better not to risk it. Besides, he learned long ago not to step into the middle of affairs, even after they were over. He was no damned errand boy. Garlus sighed..and wondered why the longleggers always insisted on making things more complicated than they had to be. Why they insisted on learning things the hard way...perhaps their short lives did not permit it to be any other way. Garlus eyed the symbol etched on his sheild, and smiled slightly. Not for the first time this day, he gave thanks at being a dwarf. The lone black pearl and the two rubies remained on the table as he picked up the next stone...an agate, and began his work anew.

Cut, Polish, Set.

[Mick]

Really enjoying these, Dan.

[danielmn]

He unlocked the wooden box, bringing out the leather scrip and placing it on the table. Untiying and rolling the scrip out revealed an array of small tools...a small lense, one that realy needed to be replaced with a better one, an extremely small hammer, and two more beside it that grew in size. Various small chisels designed for stonework. Tweezers in various sizes. Many more tools for various uses....

The pouch he brought out of the box after the leather scrip was as bare as the scrip itself was full. Two small stones, a brilliant, deep luster of bloodred in the roundcut with a centered point backing. The cutting itself had gone better than he had expected. The stones themselves had slight inner flaws, but nothing discernable without a lense to inspect them...inherent flaw of the stone itself. On the whole though, the two stones were amazing in and of themselves.

Devon slid the brooch across the table, and Garlus began the lesser work of setting the stones into the piece itself. The tongs pulled back gently, the remaining glass eye of the bird removed, the stones carefully placed and arranged into the settings, the tongs pushed back gently. The first stone went in perfectly the first try. The second stone took a little work and arranging, but Garlus finally got the stone to set right. Devon watched as Garlus put the final touches on the work. Garlus held the finished work in his hands a long moment. A true peice. A worthy peice for a worthy man. An ancestral peice passed down his line. Devon watched with a gleam in his eyes, and garlus grinned, handing the peice over. The Ravens eyes gleamed red. It was a moment.

***********************************************************

He handed the letter to the librarian, nodding slightly. One to the Mage, the other to the Helmites. He hoped he was wrong in the way the peices fit together for him...but the hin had spoken of soul gems. Too much fit together and made sense all at once....

Indeed he hoped his assessment was wrong. The threat under them the whole time...Dimetree's superior would need to be questioned....and possibly removed from the area.

[Arkan Bladesinger]

Excellent! More!

[danielmn]

The dank tunnel reeked of Death. Not just Death, even though the clatter of bones could be heard ahead. Death and...Orc. The vile mix of urine and feces, sweat and...wet feet...unbathed bodies that had not had a drop of water touch their skin since Luthic had the audacity to bring them into this world. It was hard to tell which scent was worse.

The clatter of bones as the Glowing Animations rounded the bend that lay in front of him, the cackling of laughter as they wove their hands through the air, and balls of energy came streaming toward him. Unlike previously, this time the Brooch he had purchased from Isoliah failed to put up the counter wall of energy that absorbed such a spell...instead, the balls hurled and struck, sending Garlus flying backwards. The Orc Shaman appeared, still wounded from where his axe had struck twice. Laughter, as the beast called down again some force out of the air, sending Garlus flying further backward and against the wall. The last vision before his eyes closed, was that of an enormous Orc and a floating skull coming around the bend flanked by two enormous skeletons, probably giants... booming commands...and two shambling corpses, bearing the faces of Lorono and Ari.

Garlus bolted awake, sweating, the stench of the dream still within his nostrils. "Fookin Lichfiend." He sat upright, looking around the room a long moment, before he slowed his breathing and wiped his face. He coughed, his hand finding the pitcher of water on the stand near the bed. He poured himself a tankard, trying to block the recent images from his mind...to no avail. Muttering, he gathered his pack...With any luck Isoliah would be up and he could start in on his stones early. He had work to do.
*****************************************************************************************************************************************

He finished extending the chain out, putting away Rundarr's hammer and clamps. Rundarr was unorgainzed to say the least, the tools had no permanent home...just set down whenever the were no longer needed and picked back up when they were. It was a different feeling than Isoliah's shop...everything arranged just so, all of the clamps, files, chisels, hammers neatly lined acording to scale. Garlus could not decide weather He prefered Isoliah's system or Rundarr's system more...perhaps neither was better or worse than the other. Though it did take a bit longer sometimes to find tools in Rundarr's...

He held the chain up, inspecting the links. the suit, now extended, should fit Dawn nicely. Of coarse, it was better if she did not wear it at all, but of coarse travelling proved dangerous at times. A shame he did not know how to make armour from mithril...not that he could have afforded such. Rundarr knew though...and Garlus would learn in due time. Rundarr was with a customer, so Garlus stepped out of the back entrance to the shop, and made his way with the finished armour to Mattins. Then perhaps, to the Moot...he had not been in a while.
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The waterstar Thoron had offered sat in front of Garlus. A clear stone, and a nice example at that. The few flaws would easily be chipped away with enough stone left for the purpose. He gazed at the other stones, brillaint Tiger Eyes, Jade he had purchased from the great hulk Knut, Ivory, Garnet. He had seen a fitting peice in High Hold. It was not cheap, being made of silver, but it would work as it was wrought to have settings. He had little time for the project.
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He sharpened the axeblade, casting his thoughts out. Sometimes...Wards and Runes aren't meant to keep you out.
They are meant to keep other things in.

[Wynna]

Very nice characterization fix for a day I couldn't get on to DM. Good work, Dan.

[danielmn]

The wind bit colder as Garlus took the brass and glass eyetube from its casing once again. Two days before The Feast of the Moon in the month of Uktar, with no kin near. No stories this year, for the second year of his being. No bloodkin near. Hrafen stood close by, keeping watch on the bridge and the archway under their feet, often blowing warmth into her hands or stomping her feet. The winter was coming. The last sun saw five ogres along the pass, camped high above the icepath that wound its way from the Moot to Fourthpeak. Migrations. He had let the guards in the Moot know, and to tell anyone braving the pass to Settlestone or Fourthpeak...expect trouble...and a lot of it.

Stories to be shared on the Feast of the Moon many years in the future...of three crossing the river...one very hesitantly and grudgingly, hunting after Werebeasts. Or a cup of rare metal taken by a gnome in a tower...and metal spiders and rubies. Rubies that were carved and placed in an ancient family peice...Ravens eyes. Of the Sun worship, or the quick stride and thump of bowstring as Malarites were tracked through the Moonwood. Of Eagle and his wolf. Of Dawn and her child. These will be the stories told....

Garlus watched the far slope through the eyepeice. There were kin in these lands...Settlestone, Felbarr, Adbar, Mithril Hall....but the two Garlus had claimed kin that weren't dwarven were now gone. The Eagle had flown hours ago, back to his lands, his trees of the High Forest. Dawn had set off the tenday before, intent on keeping her child alive. She wore the silver necklace Garlus had made for her, the other he had made for the child still within its box, awaiting it's arrival...cut stones depicting a sunrise. His gift to Eagle had been returned...now in his hand, the brass peice he scanned the far slope with. It would be returned, in time. Dawn's child would be born free, and far from the hands of the dark ones below. No one had even noticed her leave. No one knew, but two and she....the one making his way home, and the one standing guard at Fourthpeak. His mind wandered to Caldor for a moment... he had died somewhere out here.

Many faces to remember on this Feast of the Moon. Noiler, teacher of Oema and Oelair. Ari and Lorano. Both just beginning to learn the dangers...both dead far too soon. Angus and Valdmir, both bested in battle by him...both dead in the hills. The orckin bastards had carved up Ari and Angus. Folinar and Doilen, both kin...death through beatle and barbarian. He had taken both to Felbarr on his own back. Knut, dead by betrayal and whose death Garlus had witnessed with his own eyes and whose murderers he would love to get his hands on. That was just the kin and most recent, other faces stretched before him as he scanned the far slopes for orcs and undead. There would be more, before it was done. His mind wandered to Caldor again, and he grinned ever so slightly. The lad had seen to that.

[danielmn]

Garlus looked out over the wall a long moment into the slight vale below, and the turned, trudging up the cobblestone paved ramp. The night air was brisk, even more so with the whipping of the wind in these heights. It felt right to be here, for once. Too often Settlestone had made him feel out of place, even though it was Kin-held. His beard blew slightly to the side, the colored bead stones in the braids clacking softly together. His plate made it's usual squeeks, rattles and groans as he marched to the top of the incline. Rounding the top, he watched Selune look over the treetops at him, and grinned slightly. The night sounds came, the whistle of the almost ever-present wind, an owl somewhere beyond the back gates, the swish of water from the small lake behind. He opened the door, and stepped into the brightly lit room. Memories came and left in a flash....two kin he had found left here after their deaths. He clanked slowly across the floor toward the kin that read, his steps deliberate.

Kin...I've cem tah seek yeh blessin fer tha cemmin day. I gah tah battal ehn tha morn, ahn I taint nah ehf I beh cemmin back, alive leastays. I've cem tah spend tha eve ere ehn thaught....ahn tah give yeh semmat.

*Garlus brought a wooden lockbox to bare from his pack, and handed it over to the preist*

Ehnside, beh all tha stoones I beh callectin save fer uhn. Most beh cut ahn palashed. Loike fer yeh tah ohld ahn tah ehm fer meh...ahn ehf I taint back fer ehm ehn ah ride, ehms beh tha tempals stoones, aye?

Garlus spoke with the preist for a long while, about different things. About an elven lady who had recently died. About The Feast of the Moon. About home. About kin, about Duma. About Dawn and Thoron. The preist sat with him and they talked long of things. For to die, is to loose what is known.

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Garlus exited the temple, once again looking out and down at the sights of Settlestone. The statues carved into the rocks gazed back lifeless and souless, monuments of a steady hand and determined heart. He took out the flask of Firebelly he had recently purchased and took a long drink. Not long now. The sun would come. And the Helmites...and the mages...not long. He clanked over to the small guard hut and looked out past the cranes over the wall into the dark of night. The trees swayed, creeking as they did. His breath came in clouds, coldness had gripped this peice of the Marches. Snow very soon...perhaps this very ride. Garlus began taking off his armour, peice by peice, to make adjustments, replacements, oiling, cleaning...the axe after. Soon. Very soon. Lathander would slowly rise, bringing hope to the people of the Marches. Garlus looked out over the yet dark landscape, then closed his eyes and beseached Dumathoin to grant them safe passage under the earth. Then he began braiding his beard and hair for war.

[oldgrayrogue]

Beautiful Dan, just beautiful.

[Wynna]

I would like to thank you for these, Dan. They bring the campaign such depth, to see the characterizing actions of a PC outside the heat of action. I cannot wait to see what you write next.

[danielmn]

Garlus stood overlooking the walls and sharpening the axe as the two silouettes appeared over the stone rise shortly before Lathander rose. The first mage and the first Helmite walked together, both rattling along in similar plate maile. Both would walk out days later in a very different state, but for today, the two traveled in splendor, especially the Helmite who had just one single hair out of place, the rest polished and sharpened and burnished and combed and shaved...Garlus began to wonder weather Lemual would be applying to the Fouchalan in the near future. The swordmagus Ashan gave his greetings as he saw Garlus....Garlus was yet unsure as to weather the man could actually cast any magic, or if he were merely a swordarm for the Lady's College. Perhaps things would reveal themselves later. They both climbed the stairs to the wall as Ashan asked how the evening fared.

"Calm afore tha starm lahd." Garlus continued to work on his axeblade as he spoke...
"Best tah seek yer gahds favah ehf yeh taint areadah." You might not get another chance, Perhaps your longlegger gods will not be able to here within the deep earth the way Dumathoin can...

The ever observant Lemual chimed into the conversation....
"We had a fairly uneventful crossing at the glacier. I have the feeling our little jaunt under these hills before us will be a good deal more treacherous than our earlier one. We've fewer hands, for one thing." Aye, fewer hands, but the hands we have are not green either...not like last time. Garlus nodded to the words though.

Ashan spoke up, to Garlus's dismay, with words he had not heard yet. If the dwarf hated anything, it was surprises, and what Ashan shared qualified.

"Garlus... did Lemuel or Rathalan mention to you that demons might be dwelling inside the ruins?" Garlus winced and looked out over the wall...of coarse nothing had been said about daemons....from either of the Helmites...Garlus was sure there was an excuse as to why they had not said anything...and it really didn't surprise him in the least. They weren't planners. They had yet to really define any goals in going under, beyond finding their missing man, Pemberk.

"Toad like ones... so called Slaads? Indeed... some excerpts from teh journals within the tomes I had chance to read mentioned this rumor...In fact, this lich is somewhere mentioned as their lord, I am not really certain how much is that true."

Lemual looked up from carressing his favored belonging, the flaming sword given by his temple, and blinked.
"Slaads? I don't recall mention of anything like that, Ashan. Though in all the confusing and disconcerting conversation at the college, I may have not given it any mind..." How surprising...probably too busy petting your pet there....

Ashan responded... "Oh....'tis must that I mentioned it to Rathalan." That wouldn't be a big surprise...Rathalan tended to see only what was put in front of his nose...the man had a keen way of ignoring the distant future and reacting with his gut. Garlus still wasn't sure wether that was a blessing, or a curse.

Time to learn what no one had told him....
"Whot yeh nah aboot ese Slaads ehn...Frag Daemons?

Lemual brought to bare the fact he always did of coarse....
If these rumours are true.. how does one kill them? I'm fairly certain that my own blade will fare well against them, but what of your own weapons, my friends? If I ever fucking leave this place alive, I'll get my own axe magicked JUST so I will not have to hear you tall about your fucking glowing sword all of the damn time...


Looking over a scroll, Ashan called back from inside the gaurdhut...

"I am not sure... i couldn't dig much about them. I know only that there is quite variety amongst their kind.
Yes, yes... let me mention this... Rumor says, not only slaads... but the tower holds the gateway to their world.

Lemual voiced what Garlus himself felt inside "Oh, lovely!" A portal to a daemonhome....hell of a thing to spring on a dwarf at the last moment. So the list grew a bit longer....Frogdaemons, undead, orcs, lich....

Ashan continued..."'Tis possible that portal... Derek mentioned... is actually that gateway. Maybe, sealing that portal is all we need to do."

Lemual spoke up "Wait... you think he was held captive.. in another world?"
Ashan replied "I don't... think so, but he was telling you about some portal that he had seen along with additional prisoner, we suspect that may be the missing officer Pemberk?"
Lemual quereied back "Seal the portal? but how does that help stop the lich lord from contacting and controlling his minions?"
Ashan replied "What if the lich is not in the tower at all, but behind the portal, trying to step back?"

Garlus frowned, too many unknowns. Where was the damn Lich? Were ther daemons along with the orc and dead? How to stop the Lich and orcs from raising more dead, from marching a whole damn army of them against the marches? Too many factors not discussed...Garlus had thought to get here early and discuss all of this with the rest..but the rest came late.

Garlus tuned the two out as they debated the factors involved, but almost laughed at what drew him back into the conversation. Ashan looked to them both and then came hilarity....
"I am surprised that Vorn wasn't aware that our goal is to save the missing officer if he is held in there."

Garlus almost laughed. Why Ashan was so surprised was beyond him, the Helmites rarely said anything about their own business, Garlus himself had to pry it out of Ellisibet that the Helmites were looking for another officer gone missing. Perhaps Ashan and the Helmites shared better relations...Garlus pointed them here and no word of thanks had been forthcoming. Not that he expected such. Besides, he had his own goals...there was an Orckin female in there he intended on bringing out alive.

Garlus listed off the enemies outloud...and Ashan once again hit him hard with unexpected news.
"A certain elf in the past... a trainee for a spellguard, suspected involvment of dark elves as well."

Garlus shook his head, and made the unfortuous comment that would likely later come back to haunt them all...
"Sah....eryuhn cept Cyric ehmself, eh?"

"He mentioned that it might be them working with orcs in fact. But from the shadow. Darkned kin of the elves is not vary known to me... But I suppose they have planty of cunning."

The talk wound to Hellsgate Keep and of possible connections there...and then to his own concern in the matter.
" Well Garlus, did you prepare the speech for the half-orcish woman if we meet her?" Garlus looked over at Ashan, wondering how he had known. "Mmmm, taint gehd whit speechas."
Lemual nodded and replied "I just hope she doesn't get spooked, like last time, and try to smother us with folliage
Ashan replied "Indeed... a careful approch is needed."
Ten to one odds, the morons would approach with weapons drawn and bloodied, and demanding no less, unless Garlus stumbled upon her first.

Ashan spoke again. " Tormented souls, if she is indeed one, knows only for fear and despair."
" Ahts ahn uhndastatmant ahn tha ole thin yeh ask meh."

Garlus wished Ashan had kept his trap shut...but what was done was done. Lemual started in.
Say, garlus, as i undesrstand it, settlestone is outside the Lady Alustriel's pact, else there would be an Argent Legion fort near here, as well. is this correct?" Damnit. Those damn lads posturing for sure to take what's left in dwarven hands out of dwarven hands!

"I taint nahin tha palatics ah ehs place. Taint spent mech time ere. figuraed yeh'd nah mere aboot eht ehn meh."

" I see. I ask because it's rather a sticky situation, when you think about it. Here we have a dwarven settlement run by the son of the sister of an orc shaman bent on the destruction of everything not orcish... I get the impression, from speaking to some of the locals.. some, mind you, not all, that they are aware of the connection to his dam, and aren't exactly pleased. Think what would happen if they found out the exact relationships involved."


Garlus replied carefully as he folded his arms across his chest."Ahn aht kind ah talk ehs exactlay why I beh stayin away frem ere. Kin business beh kin business." But it wasn't, he would later find out. No, kin business would become Helmite business, while Garlus would be left out of it completely. For things had been spoken between the Faenor and the Helmites that did not make there way to the ears of poor Garlus, who was trying to do whatever was in his power to hold this place together. No, the Helmites would see things done their way or no way. Garlus was just another blade for their wants and bidding.